The Phantom's Storm
by DragonfireOfHope
Summary: Matalin Bonnefoy has traveled back in time to become owner to the Opera Populaire, now in ruins. She finds the not-so-mystical Phantom of the Opera and somehow, through her singing, they are dropped through more time to the start of everything, the day Erik dropped the backdrop on Carlotta. With his Storm by his side, can the Phantom fix what went wrong so long ago?
1. Prologue

(So I'm going to welcome myself back to writing with a little Phanfiction. Anything in bold and italics is from Phantom. The lines in bold came straight from my head, but if you're going to sing along they go to the tune of _Stranger Than You Dreamt It_ from the 2004 movie with Gerard Butler. And that goes for all lyrics. 2004 movie. This is going to be really bizarre as I get back into the swing of writing, so please forgive me if it doesn't make much sense. This won't be an official crossover, but I will toss Easter eggs from other fandoms in for you, so anyone who correctly identifies them in a review will get an answer to any one question they have in the AN for whenever I next update, which will hopefully be either Wednesday or Friday. Have fun you guys!)

 **Disclaimer: Phantom of the Opera, and the Easter egg fandom do not belong to me, they are the rightful property of their creators. Only Matalin and the storyline are mine, sadly.**

* * *

 _ **The Angel of Music sings songs in my head. The Angel of Music sings songs in my head.**_ A hand brushed the curtain here, a gaze flicked up to the catwalks there. The Opera Populaire, now in ruins, was hers. The fantasy world of her childhood was  hers. And now she would bring it to life once again. Starting with The Phantom of the Opera, he who taught her to sing. Stepping into the prima donna's dressing room, she faced the large mirror and let loose a breathy laugh. "It seems you have read my mind, Monsieur L'ange. Welcome back." The mirror slid open and a dark figure stood there, the only thing illuminated by the single candle in her hand his white porcelain mask. The Phantom of the Opera stood before Matalin Bonnefoy, a frown over what was visible of his face.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Matalin Bonnefoy. And it is my pleasure to meet you." She dipped into a low curtsy, brown curls that faded into bleach-blonde tumbling over the shoulders of her black dress, the skirt of that same dress sweeping years of dust off the floor, creating mist beneath her feet, adding to her mystery. As she rose, gray eyes looked out from porcelain pale skin, her lips curling gently into a delicate smirk, her cheeks a healthy rose. The Phantom stared at her, unease permeating his calm façade.

"Do you know who I am?" His voice was low, questioning, uneasy, and scared. He did not leave the entryway into the dressing room the mirror formed. She took his hand and pulled him in gently before sliding the mirror shut behind him.

" _ **In sleep he sang to me. In dreams he came. That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name. And do I dream again? For now I find, the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind,**_ " She sang softly, but the clear notes of her voice rose above anything she had intended before she dipped into the nest song. " _ **The man behind the monster, this repulsive carcass who seems a beast but secretly dreams of beauty. Secretly, secretly.**_ " She faced him, no fear in her gray eyes as he stared down at her in horror. Matalin slowly reached a hand up and carefully pulled his mask away from his face. " _ **Stranger than you dreamt it, can you ever dare to look, or bear to think of me?**_ " Her voice changed from raw and fearful to soft and lulling. " **I can dare to look, and bear to think of you. You are not the man they say. You are not just your face. You are not just your crimes!** " Her arms wrapped around him and pulled him close to her as he began to cry softly, and they fell through time to the sounds of the Overture.


	2. Chapter 1: In the Passage

**In the Passage: Matalin's Point of View**

I carefully released the Phantom as we finished falling, conveniently behind the mirror passage to the prima donna's dressing room. "This must be before Hannibal was performed," I whispered, almost to myself.

"Yes. That appears to be correct, my dear," Erik whispered. I squeaked in surprise, a light blush spreading over my cheeks. He laughed lightly. "Did I surprise you, Mademoiselle Bonnefoy?"

I laughed, a light, breathy sound. "Yes, you did. And, please, call me Matalin. Or any nickname you can think of. So, there is the famous 'La Carlotta'. Hm." I leaned against the wall next to the Phantom, watching the prima donna pose and preen in front of the mirror. Erik watched me curiously. 'She isn't frightened of me . . . why? She knows who I am, what I have done. Why is she not afraid?'

"I'm not afraid because I know you. Perhaps better than you know yourself," I whispered. It was the Phantom's turn to be startled.

"You heard me?"

I laughed lightly. "Yes. You weren't being very quiet in your thinking, Angel." Erik flinched slightly.

"Don't call me that."

"Why not, Angel?"

Erik growled slightly and pivoted on his toes to pin me to the wall, glaring down at me. I shivered slightly as his hands tightened on my hips, pushing me against the wall, his body (Holy crap how tall is he? At least 6 feet, he's towering over me, my God how is he this attractive!?) pinning me to it, his height advantage over me ensuring I couldn't get away. "Don't call me that," he growled, his voice rumbling deep in his throat and chest.

"Angel~" I singsonged, trying to hide everything I felt except amusement. He obviously thought I was going to listen to him. "Angel, angel, angel" I sang quietly. Then an idea struck me, and I took a deep breath before singing quietly up to him. " _ **Angel of Music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory**_." He shivered harshly.

"Enough, Matalin. You cannot know what your singing does to me."

I smirked before changing songs, tempting him, pushing his limits. " _ **In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came. That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name. And do I dream again, for now I find, the Phantom of the Opera is there. Inside my mind.**_ " He shuddered again before stepping away. "Go," I said. "Go to drop the backdrop on Carlotta, get into place, where you were the first time this happened. Go!" I pushed him down the passage lightly. "I will stay to learn what I can learn. Go!" I pushed him again, but instead of leaving without me, he scooped me up into his arms bridal style and carried me down the passage with him. "Phantom!" No response, he just kept walking. "Angel!" Again, no response. "Erik!" I squeaked, hooking my legs around his arm and poking his chest insistently. "Erik!" He stopped dead, looking down on me with an unidentifiable expression.

"Yes, Storm?"


	3. Chapter 2: And So It Begins Anew

(This chapter is dedicated to the friend who taught me how to believe. Her account name is **MidnightZoroark827** , check out her stuff if you like Hetalia and Warriors. Me updating two or three times a day won't happen all the time, I just happen to be in the zone right now. Enjoy!)

 **Disclaimer for the last chapter and this one: Unfortunately, not mine. A Phangirl can dream, right?**

 _ **Phantom Song Lyrics**_

 **Other song lyrics**

 _Thoughts_

 **Chapter Two: And So It Begins Anew: Matalin's POV**

He stopped dead, looking down on me with an unidentifiable expression. "Yes, Storm?"

"I beg your pardon? Did you just call me "Storm"!? How in the name of opera did you come up with that one?" I crossed my arms over my chest, leveling my best 'my father will hear about this' glare at him. It didn't seem to work, because he chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest to shake me. It helped nothing.

"I did indeed call you 'Storm'," he replied, looking down at me in amusement, still holding me securely in his arms.

"That only answers one question I had, Angel," I huffed, looking away from the chiseled jawline and strong features that disappeared behind white porcelain and to the floor. I felt him go rigid next to and underneath me, and he carefully set me down on the ground, avoiding my quizzical gaze. "Thank you," I whispered, carefully straightening my skirts. _Good Lord I hate these things and this corset ugh what was I thinking but is it worth it if I save him from her and from himself?_ "You should go," I continued over my thoughts. "It's almost time to drop the backdrop on Carlotta. I wouldn't want you to miss that, I know you so enjoyed it. Go on, now. I'll go back through the mirror and people watch." I pushed him gently down the passage before gathering my skirts and fleeing back the way we had come. Anything to get away from those haunting, haunted eyes.

 **POV Change to Erik**

I spun around just in time to see the last whisper of black fabric clear the corner back towards the prima donna's dressing room. She was gone. _How could I have let her go so easily? I am . . . I don't know anymore. What- Who- am I? Look at her, she's already changing how I think! How dare she just storm into my life knowing my songs and calling me "Angel" the way only . . . only . . . only CHRISTINE did! She says she knows me but then how doesn't she realize what all of this is doing to me!?_ I stopped the walking I hadn't realized I'd begun. _How did I get here? Matalin said that this was back before everything began . . . and that I should still drop the backdrop on Carlotta._ I smirked. _It would be a shame to disappoint such a beautiful lady._ I strode off towards the catwalks, where I could see and not be seen, ready to strike should Carlotta ruin my stage with her abhorrent voice.


	4. Chapter 3: In Which There Is a Mystery

(I'm baaaaack. Again. Jeez, I really am on a roll. Aren't you guys sick of me yet? Do me a favor and drop a review if you'd like to see anything specific as far as the story goes)

 **Disclaimer: I wish it was mine!**

 _ **Phantom Lyrics**_

 **Other song lyrics**

 _Thoughts_

 **Chapter 3: In Which There Is a Mystery: Erik's POV: After** _ **Think of Me**_ **and** _ **Phantom of the Opera**_

 _Did I call her beautiful? I've never thought of anyone but Christine like that . . . curiouser and curiouser._ I took a single step to disembark the boat I used to go home, and looked up sharply as a few gentle notes of music reached my ears. _They sound almost sad._ " _ **Too many years fighting back tears. Why can't the past just die?**_ **Trying to move on from this. Feeling like I never could. Try to forget, let me pretend, that this betrayal never happened! Somehow I've come back here again. Back to the edge of madness! Back to the aftermath of it all. The pain . . . the pain. I live with it day by day, how can it not consume me!? Is it right or is it wrong to hold on for so long? How can I let this go!? Teach me to be free . . . teach me to be free.** " Her voice faded into silence, but pale fingers continued to caress the white keys of the organ, creating more beautiful sounds then I ever had. _Am I jealous of her music? How strange. I know my music is wonderful . . . is hers better?_ I took a single step forward to get a better view of the woman at my organ. She was in a loose white blouse, and her brown-and-blonde hair was twisted into a tight bun at the base of her neck. I took another step forward, and it echoed around the cavern as I stumbled when she stood up. "Hello Erik. How did it go?" It was Matalin. _How did I not recognize her or her voice?_ The act of her standing up gave me a view of the black pants and boots she was wearing that clung to her like second and third skins. _I'm very grateful that I don't blush easily._ It took more effort than I thought it would to drag my eyes up to her sparkling storm grey eyes.

"It went as well as could be expected. You know what I was there to do," I replied. My curiosity overwhelmed me, and I had to ask. "When did you learn to play?"

She laughed. "Just now, actually. I had no idea I could do it. Did you hear me singing?"

I shifted anxiously in place. "Yes. You were very good. Just as if I had trained you myself."

She laughed again, lightly. "You sort of did."

I stared at her, and I knew my confusion was evident in my eyes. "How? I have never met you before today. How could I have trained you in the art of music?"

"Never you mind." She waved a dismissive hand at me, and I grabbed her gently and used her hand to spin her towards me, utterly bemused as to why I did such a thing, but knowing it felt right and delighting in her surprised squeak and following delighted laughter. We started to dance slowly around the organ and the candles. She broke the silence. "You are not what I expected."

I raised the eyebrow not hidden by the mask at her, almost drowning in the storm clouds that were her eyes. "And how am I different?" I knew my green eyes were burning her, and that the tight grip I had on her waist was likely hurting her, but there was no fear in her eyes and she said nothing to me about it.

"You're more . . . spontaneous than the stories made you out to be," she murmured, her eyes never once leaving mine. Her grey eyes were burning with questions and a fire I told myself I identified wrong. It looked like love. Buried under years-old betrayal, pain, and memories of song, but still love.

 **Matalin's POV**

As we danced I couldn't help but remember the betrayal of my friends, the pain that brought me, and the memories of all the times I sang along to _Phantom of the Opera_ songs with my mother and my friends. I hoped he couldn't see the love that I had for him just based on the Broadway show and his music. Maybe I could pass it off as memories of my family. I doubt he would believe that, but it was worth a shot. Worth a shot.


	5. Chapter 4: Questions and Answers

(I apologize if Erik seems OOC during this, but this is how I've always seen him, without even reading the book. I always felt like there was more to him than what the movie ever showed us, and this is what that "more" looks like to me)

 **Disclaimer: I own Phantom about as much as I own Harry Potter. That is to say, not at all.**

 **Chapter 4: Questions and Answers: Objective POV (that is to say, neither Erik nor Matalin's)**

The dance came to an end, and they spent few moments staring into each other's eyes before Matalin shivered slightly and looked away. "Are you cold?" Erik asked quietly as he wrapped his cloak around her shoulders. When she didn't respond, only shivered again, he pulled her close and held her head to his chest.

"Don't you have any questions for me?" she whispered, still avoiding his burning gaze.

"A few," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders lightly. "Starting with: are you okay?" She shivered again but didn't answer. "Storm. Answer me." Erik's voice was low and rumbled in his chest as he placed a gentle hand under her chin and tilted her head up to look at him, mildly surprised when he was met with no resistance. He cursed mentally when he saw the silver shine across grey eyes that betrayed the existence of tears.

"I'm frightened," she whispered. "Not of you!" she added hastily at the look on his face. "Of . . . never mind. It's not important." She spun out of his arms, holding his cloak around her. Erik caught her arm and spun her back towards him, wrapping his hands around her upper arms to keep her in place.

"It is important if it is going to make you cry. Tell me," he growled.

Matalin inhaled sharply before whispering, "I'm frightened of what she-Christine- can and will do to you. You've given her the power to absolutely destroy you, Erik! I don't . . . I don't think I could live through watching that. Please don't make me have to try to." She looked up at Erik, silver tears leaving clear tracks down bloodless cheeks and turning her grey eyes silver. Erik watched her cry for a few long moments before removing his gloves and carefully wiping her tears away, cradling her head in his hands.

"Beautiful angel, do not cry," he crooned softly, wrapping gentle arms around her.

"I'm not an angel," Matalin muttered. "I'm not beautiful, either," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"You are beautiful," Erik corrected. "But I will concede that you're not an angel. More a storm, with the way you just dropped into my life. How did you do that, while I'm on the subject?"

She hummed a low note thoughtfully. "I'm not entirely sure, if I'm being completely honest with you. I don't think they were kidding when they warned us as children to be careful what you wish for." Matalin hummed another low note as she turned to fake the lake, still in his arms, and leaned her head forward to allow her nimble fingers to poke and pull pins out of her hair, freeing it to tumble down to her waist. Now humming a simple, sweet lullaby melody, Storm laid her head gently on Erik's shoulder. "Did you love her? Or were you just obsessed with her?"

Erik was quiet for a long moment before he answered, "In retrospect, I can say I was only obsessed. But, then, I thought I loved her. Have you ever loved anyone?" His finger twisted mindlessly through the ends of her hair, and she noticed but said nothing.

"I've been very lucky," she began slowly. "I have loved a great many people. But it was always a familial love. I can safely say that I have not found my . . . my one true love, my soul mate, whatever you would want to call it. I have, however, found my soul twin in my best friend. We're like extensions of each other, and I'm extremely lucky to have her." Erik let out a breath he was unaware he'd been holding, and the fingers that had stilled at the beginning of her description of this love began to twist through the blonde pieces of her hair again.

"Do you miss her?"

"Desperately. I wish she was here with me. She would love all of this. Would love you. The you that the story never showed us that is."

Erik hummed softly and rested his forehead on top of her head. "I'm more worried about what you think of me than what she would think of me, my Storm," he whispered.

She turned her head to look at him, an amused smile playing at her crimson lips. "Really now, Erik?"

He shivered lightly at the way his name rolled off her tongue so effortlessly before whispering, "Really," and pulling his arms tighter around her, fitting her flush against him as they stared out over the lake together.


	6. Chapter 5 and 6

(So this is two chapters in one update because the chapter I was uploading being different than the chapter fanfiction was telling me I was on was driving me insane. So you have chapters five and six here! Warning, chapter 6 is pretty short. This chapter goes out to my best friend Lilly, who actually appears in this chapter and is here to stay now! Whoo-hoo!)

 **Warning: Contains underwater scenes**

 **Disclaimer: POTO is sadly not mine, but Matalin and our new OC are! And 'The Storm' isn't mine either, credit goes to Garth Brooks**

 _Thoughts_

 **Chapter Five: Surprise! : Matalin's POV**

I hummed thoughtfully to myself, the perfect picture of calm and collected on the outside, but my thoughts were whirling like a hurricane. "I think that I still have much to learn about you, Erik Destler." He pulled me close against him as I hummed Garth Brooks' 'The Storm' under my breath, and that, of course, gave way to singing. " **Oh, she's drowning in emotion, and she cannot reach the shore. She's alive, but can she survive the storm?** " As my voice trailed away into silence, I felt like I had been plunged into water a split second before an alarm went off.

Ignoring Erik's frantic call of "Storm!" I dove into the water after the person who had fallen. Diving down, I grabbed their hand and started to pull them up. The dark water pressed in on all sides around me, and I felt like I was suffocating, even though the steady stream of bubbles coming from my nose told me I hadn't run out of air. Just as my lungs started to scream for air, the top of my head broke the surface of the water, my nose coming up soon after. I inhaled sharply when I came face-to-face with an angry Erik. We looked at each other for a second before I started to pull up the person I had dived down for.

I pulled her up out of the water and pushed her into Erik's arms. "Take her to ground and get the water out of her lungs, bitte." He glared at me for a moment before doing what I asked. I pushed my hair out of my face before laying back and floating, taking slow, deep breaths with my eyes closed. I only had a few moments of peace before there was a splash, and I was being lifted out of the water. I hummed softly in pleasure and curled into the firm chest of whoever was carrying me. _Must be Erik then. This is nice._

"What were you thinking, you foolish girl!? Just jumping in like that. Matalin, I was so scared for you. You took so long coming back up. I thought you were trying to kill yourself and I couldn't do anything. It's like I was frozen. Please wake up. Please." I was settled into silk sheets and I heard him taking shaky breaths. Slowly I blinked open my eyes, and my lips curled into a pleased smile at the sight of his brilliant golden eyes.

"Hey, you," I whispered, reaching up to slowly trace the unmasked side of his face. "I'm sorry I worried you. My twin-sense activated-"I paused to take a shaky breath, my fingers resting on the side of his face. He brought his hand to the hand I had still lying on the bed and twined our fingers together, giving me a reassuring squeeze and a slight smile. "I panicked. I'm sorry, Erik." My fingers moved to trace his mask, my eyes on his.

"God, Matalin," he breathed. "You can take it off if you want," he whispered.

"No," I breathed, my fingers resting on the cool white porcelain. "I won't take it off for you, Erik."

"God, Matalin," he breathed again. "You can't know-"

"Yes I can," I interrupted. "Just tell me."

"Matalin!?" A voice interrupted out conversation, like I had just interrupted Erik.

"Lilly!" I sat up, but had to lean against Erik as dizziness overtook me.

"Are we in _Phantom of the Opera_?" she asked.

I nodded. "Surprise?" I asked sheepishly.

 **Chapter Six: Thoughts: Erik's POV**

I wrapped my arm around her waist when she leaned into me, knowing that the contact with her was caused by my need to reassure myself she was alive. _You can't know how much you mean to me_ I finished my sentence from earlier mentally. _Why wouldn't she take off my mask?_ I wondered, listening to her soft chatter with Lilly with half an ear, more focused on my own thoughts and the way it felt to have her curled into me like this. _I could live for moments like this. She's so small, so fragile. And yet I know she could crush me with just a few words. She's powerful, too. Even though Lilly's smaller than she is, she pulled her out of the lake with no issues at all, except falling asleep floating after. But she woke up so quickly I don't-_ My spinning thoughts were interrupted by Matalin's yawn as she curled into me more,

"Are you tired, Matty?" the other girl, Lilly, asked.

"A little," Matalin admitted.

"I'll leave you then. I have things to do. Sleep well." She was gone before either of us could say a word.

"Erik?" Matalin asked. _My name has never sounded more beautiful than when she says it._

"Yes?"

"Stay with me?"

"Always." And she was asleep. _Oh precious one, do you even know what that question does to me? What you wanting me to stay means? Oh, please, Storm don't hurt me. I can't stop myself from-I can't even admit it to myself, how am I supposed to tell you? How do you even exist, perfect as you are? How, how, how?_ I laid us both down on the bed, curled protectively around her, and followed suit.


	7. Chapter 7: Changes

**(Shout out to JoJo for being our first reviewer! This chapter's going up a few days early just for you! I hope you like it. Alright, we're basically going to leave all canon plotlines that I know of behind now, and in a few chapters we'll reach** _ **Masquerade**_ **and Christine gets a lovely little surprise. But, first,** **Changes** **!)**

 _ **Question of the Week: Am I the only one who hates Christine a little bit for pulling off Erik's mask without his permission? Discuss in a review, please!**_

 **Disclaimer: POTO is, sadly, not mine**

 **Chapter 7: Changes: Matalin's POV**

As I slowly drifted back to wakefulness, all I was aware of was that my pillow was breathing. _Why is my-Oh._ I had opened my eyes and tilted my head back to see a sleeping Erik. I exhaled quietly and attempted to get up, but his arms tightened around me, holding me in place. I settled back against his chest and looked up at his sleeping face. He looked so peaceful. His dark eyelashes brushed against his cheekbone, and the masked side of his face pressed into the pillow. _That can't be comfortable._ I carefully extracted myself from his arms and replaced my body with a pillow before picking up his head and gently removing his mask. Without being fazed by the burned-looking red skin, I laid his head back on the pillow, set his mask next to him, and slipped out of the room. Lilly was waiting for me, and I embraced her. "I missed you," we whispered in unison, and laughed quietly afterwards.

"Just let me change and we'll go up." I disappeared into a separate room for a moment before coming out in an ash grey dress that made my grey eyes pop. My brown-and-blonde hair was left to curl around my shoulders. I pulled black leggings on under my dress before slipping into silver flats. I walked back out to see Lilly dressed the same way I was, except her dress was cobalt blue, her eyes were sky blue, and her hair didn't fade into blonde, instead staying brown. She's also smaller than me, but that doesn't really matter much. We nodded at each other before taking a passage up to the roof and climbing down to the front of the opera, out plans not needing to be said aloud thanks to our twin-bond. It wasn't long before we dropped gracefully to the steps in front of the door, our skirts flaring around us like bells. "Ready?"

"Ready." We made our way to the front door just as it opened to reveal a screeching Carlotta. "Carlotta, dear," Lilly began.

"Let us help you," I finished, herding the temperamental prima Donna back inside. "The rest of the cast hates you. Just face it, it's true," I said.

"We know a way to ensure they'll adore you as they do Mademoiselle Daae."

"Go on," the haughty prima donna commanded.

"Leave. Run far away, and never come back," Lilly and I whispered in unison, shoving the prima donna and her entourage out the door. "Goodbye!" we called. "Goodbye! We won't miss you!" We turned to the managers then, and I took point, speaking for both of us.

"Messieurs, I assure you I have only the best interests of the opera house in mind, as does my sister here."

"I am quite done with this nonsense!" Firmin shouted. "If you ladies are willing to buy, I, at least, will sell. Andre?"

"I will sell as well," the little white haired man said. "This is all absurd. "Ladies, let us discuss." With that, Lilly and I were ushered to the managers' office, where we discussed terms for selling the Opera Populaire.


	8. Chapter 8: Well

**( .GOSH you guys! We've reached over 300 views! That's so AWESOME! Thank you so much! This is so crazy! I never thought this many people would see my work! I just wish I knew if you guys liked it. Will you guys do me a favor? Check out deanna37's** _ **Drowning in the Music**_ **and** _ **Drowning in Illusions**_ **. They're super good stories, and if you can't drop me a review, go ahead and drop her one! Please guys? It'd mean a lot to me.)**

 **Disclaimer: Phantom of the Opera is, sadly, not mine.**

 _ **Question of the Weekend: What's your favorite version of Erik you've seen in a fanfiction, book, or movie? Drop a review to tell me!**_

 **Chapter 8: Well . . . : Erik's POV**

I awoke to find my arms wrapped around a pillow and my mask gone. _Matalin must have gotten up before me then. I'm not worried. I'm not worried. She must have been the one to take my mask off. And now she's gone. I'm not worried. I'm not. I'm not. When I get up she'll be waiting outside. Just outside. Right._

I slowly sat up and put my mask back on. Taking a deep breath, I walked out, my eyes automatically seeking out the boat. _It's still there. She must be, too. She knows no other way to get out. So, then, where is she?_

I started to prowl around the lair, looking for her. _Where could she be?_

 **Matalin's POV**

When negotiations were over, Lilly and I were the new owners of the Opera Populaire. "Way to change the timeline, Matty. How did we even get here?"

"Don't know, but I'm certainly going to take advantage of it." I smirked. "You'd better have Madame Giry and Monsieur Reyer gather the cast and crew so we can meet them."

"What about the Phantom?"

"He'll keep. I want to see the look on his face when he finds out who exactly the owners are." I stood up and swung a dark cloak around my shoulders before pulling the hood up to cover my face.

After Lilly left, I made my way to the prima donna's dressing room and entered the mirror. Singing loudly, I called out, deliberately altering my voice to sound like Christine. " **Angel, I have news. Messiers Andre and Firmin have sold the opera house. There are 2 new owners, who are very different. Come and meet them.** "

I stayed long enough to hear his reply, " **I will come** ," before I whirled out of the passageway, my cloak billowing out around me. _Let the chips fall where they may. This is my opera house now, not just his. It's high time he learned to share._

 **Erik's POV**

There were new owners. Supposedly different from Andre and Firmin, those imbeciles. I'm surprised they sold. I haven't done anything since returning Christine, and that was just . . .

 _When was that? Yesterday evening, maybe? Mon Dieu, it seems like ages. Sweet Christine, not that sweet after all. How could I have loved her after this? Do I love her now? I've lived all this before . . . but it's different now . . . they didn't sell the first time. How curious this is. Well then . . . time to have some fun, I suppose._

 **(I know I move really fast with these chapters and it's all kind of choppy, but it starts slowing down next chapter, I promise. Just stick with me here. I'm trying to get on a regular posting schedule, once or twice a week, Fridays for sure, Mondays, too, maybe. So y'all will be able to know when the next chapter's coming! Welcome to HexWick! Thanks for following!)**


	9. Chapter 9: Introductions

(Well, here we are, one week later. I'd like to be able to update more than once a week, but school's kinda kicking my butt with work and drama, so for now, only once a week. Sorry guys. Anyway, welcome to Alice-Italy-Haruhi, who followed, and bella cullen the original, who favorited. Welcome! Also, I'm not extremely familiar with the Language of Roses, all I know is from a fanfiction called _Bouquet_ that I really loved.)

 _Thoughts_

 **Disclaimer: I wish it was mine!**

 **Chapter 9: Introductions: Matalin's POV**

I stared at my reflection in the mirror with satisfaction. Black eyeliner framed my eyes, making them pop underneath the white porcelain mask. My lips were the perfect shade of a coral rose. _Erik should get a kick out of this. Coral roses symbolize desire._ There was a knock on my office door and I turned slowly, surveying the room.

The walls were an incredibly soft pink, with nothing on them except a gold-framed mirror. There was a dark wood bookcase filled with opera scores along one wall, and a desk of the same dark wood piled high with paperwork and pens in the middle of the room. There was a plush black chair sitting behind it, facing the door. The floors were covered in plush cream carpet. "Come," I called, turning from the mirror to seat myself delicately at the desk, the picture of professionalism. If, of course, one ignored my mask.

Lilly walked in, her face clear of any mask, her footsteps sinking into the carpet. "Are you ready?" she asked, one slim, pale hand curled into her skirt.

With a last check on the mask that concealed the majority of my face, I nodded. "Yes."

"I don't understand why you're wearing that, you know. Or why I'm having issues reading you. Normally I can anticipate your every move!" Lilly took a single step back to cross the threshold to the hall as she spoke, her gaze not leaving me, determined to analyze this new me.

"Because we need to be different people. We're too similar for this time, particularly because we can read each other so well. We can't unnerve them any more than the mask will do by itself. And as a bonus, the mask will greatly unnerve our resident Opera Ghost. To see someone with a mask respected in society? The very notion will shock him to the core." I stood up and blew out the lone candle on my desk, plunging the office into darkness. For a single moment my breath caught and I was plunged into nightmares. Then my eyes adjusted to the light, and I inhaled sharply before moving out of the office and joining Lilly in the hallway. "Let's go." We started to walk.

"They're all onstage. Madame Giry, Monsieur Reyer, the cast, the crew, the orchestra, everyone! Even the maids!"

"That's wonderful, Lilly! Don't be narrow-minded, child. We're here to change the times as much as two people can, remember that."

"I'll remember. I'm older than you!"

I stifled a laugh at her indignant response and continued to walk. We traveled the halls in silence for a few minutes before I saw the flick of a cloak around a corner. I knew who that was instantly. I smirked slightly at it, and Lilly giggled prematurely, knowing by the expression I was about to be sarcastic in a way she found terribly amusing. "How frightening," I commented dryly. "I may faint."

Lilly laughed at that. "Matty you're so horrible!"

"I try," I grinned for a moment before breaking into quiet laughter. "Oh goodness are we going to give him a run for his money!" I calmed down when I saw that our conversation and laughter had carried us to the stage.

"Hello everyone," Lilly greeted, stepping into the light before I could. "I'm Lilly Bonnefoy. I and my sister are the new owners of the Opera Populaire."

I stepped out of the shadows, knowing they were intimidated by my mask and commanding, no-nonsense presence by the way they recoiled fractionally before stiffening. I smiled engagingly at them before repeating Lilly's greeting. "Hello everyone." I pulled my mask off and laughed. "I am Matalin Bonnefoy, but you all can call me Storm."

The fish-out-of-water shocked looks I was receiving from everyone onstage only increased my amusement. Even funnier was the soft thump that could only come from someone landing on the stage. I quickly reapplied my mask and slid into the shadows, pulling my hood up to hide the porcelain and pulling my cloak around me to hide the grey of my dress that would assuredly be visible to the Opera Ghost with incredible night-sight. _This should be good._

(Cliffhanger! Sort of. Sorry if this all sucks, this is the first I've written in a really long time that hasn't been bad poetry or for school)


	10. Chapter 10: Confrontation

(So sorry this is late, you guys! Anyway, happy Derby Day to anyone who happens to follow horse racing!)

 _Thoughts_

 **Disclaimer: I am not enough of a genius for** _ **Phantom**_ **to belong to me**

 **Chapter 10: Confrontation: Objective POV**

The Phantom stalked across the stage, the cast and crew parting before him like the Red Sea. "Where is she?" he growled to Lilly, his voice filled with unspeakable irritation.

"Where is who?" she inquired, feigning confusion.

"He must mean me, dear sister," Matalin called, throwing her voice so it appeared to emanate from right behind him. He spun around, and she took the opportunity of him having his back turned to step forward into the light, her hood still up, only her eyes showing. They had turned from the soft, warm grey of storm clouds to the dark, brittle of grey granite. "Can I help you, Monsieur?" she asked, her voice hard and brittle, yet coolly polite at the same time. The Phantom slowly turned to face her, his scowl deepening as he took in the fact that her face was covered by her hood.

"Lower your hood." It was not a request, it was absolutely a command. Several ladies watching the proceedings shivered at the power in his voice. She acquiesced.

"Very well." She lowered her hood, obeying the clear command, revealing the white mask that covered the left side of her face to her lips and extended to her right to cover down to her cheekbone. What little skin was left uncovered was pale, yet flushed lightly pink. He immediately brought his right hand up to unmask her, but she intercepted him, the slender fingers of her right hand wrapping tightly around her wrist. Her jaw was set, the only sign of her anger aside from the smoldering fire in her eyes.

"Anything you do to me I shall repay tenfold," she hissed. "That, Monsieur, is a promise. And you would do well to remember it." As she spoke, she moved to stand directly in front of him, standing only a few inches from him. Her entire body was locked in that odd balance between rigidity and fluid movement. A fighting stance the Phantom knew well. She looked deadly with that pose, the mask, and the grey fire burning in her eyes. His free hand twitched to the Punjab lasso at his side, and before he could realize what had happened, her left hand slipping under and around where her right hand was locked around his wrist to loop it around his neck, a smirk on her face.

"Keep your hand at the level of your eyes, Messieur," she hissed, amusement flooding her voice and written on her face in a very deliberate moment. "Is that how it goes?" she inquired of the assembled crowd, half turning to face them.

 _She will regret that._ He vowed to himself. He made a move with his left hand to remove the lasso from his neck and place it around hers . . .

And in the blink of an eye he had been flipped over and was lying on his back on the stage floor, the lasso still around his neck but the end of it was tied around his wrists, making fighting back impossible unless he wanted to choke himself. "So much for never hurting a woman," she said conversationally, one knee on his chest, the other on the floor next to him.

"How did you do that!?" He exploded from his place on the floor. "I am the Phantom of the Opera! I am invincible!"

She laughed at that, a bitter, taunting laugh. "Invincible you say? Then where is your friend? Even the invincible can be laid low by a storm. And that is how you shall know me: as Storm. That is the name you shall call when you have need of me." She got up and pulled him to his feet without ever undoing the rope around his wrists. "Begone. Your tricks are not welcome here. And, until you can give us advice instead of demands, your ideas are not welcome either. We are to have a mature, adult relationship if this opera is to function to either of our satisfaction. I trust you will be polite next time we meet."

He glared at her before disappearing, thunderous applause from the assembled cast and crew ringing in his ears.


	11. Chapter 11: Why So Silent?

**(Geez you guys I am so sorry I haven't updated in a few weeks. I don't even have a good excuse, I just forgot. I'm not really used to posting weekly. So happy late Memorial Day to all the American-types out there, and welcome to the new followers/favoriters (you know who you are). And I've realized lately my Erik is waaaay OOC but that's just how I write him because I picture him sort of like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, if that makes any sense. Enough of my rambling, on to the story!)**

 **Standard disclaimer: not mine**

**Chapter 11: Why So Silent? : Erik's POV**

I reached my lair, royally angry. Could nothing today go right? First Matalin disappears on me- _wasn't her friend gone too?_ Then the new owner of the Populaire, this "Storm", utterly  humiliates me in front of people I have terrified for years! _HOW DARE SHE!?_

There was a light step in the tunnel leading to the roof. I spun around on my heels to see Matalin emerge from the darkness, dressed in an ash grey dress. "Where have you been," I questioned. I couldn't care less about the harshness of my voice, or about scaring her. _How have I lost control?_

"On the roof," she answered lightly, moving towards me with a predatory grace. "What did I miss?"

I didn't answer, just watched, slightly dumbfounded, as she came to stand in front of me. "Erik?" she asked, placing her hands lightly on my chest. "What happened?" she whispered, looking up at me. _I didn't realize I was this much taller than her._

She started to move; her fingers first, then her hands, tracing light patterns on my chest. My heart increased its beat, going from a steady drum to the frantic click-clack of train wheels on the track. My breathing stuttered and became labored. I couldn't think. I could barely breathe. I exhaled, and somehow it became her name. "Matalin." It sounded like a prayer. A desperate wish from the depths of my heart begging her not to stop, not to leave, not to hate me like so many others had come to do. But I had never prayed before a day in my life.

Matalin closed her eyes for a brief second before stopping her invisible artwork and laying her hands on my shoulders, a soft, reassuring pressure reminding me that for once I was not alone. "What happened?" she asked again. I stayed silent, and she emitted a frustrated sigh before pushing off of me and starting to sing.

" _ **Why so silent, good messieurs?"**_ I hissed softly and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back against me before she could get too far away. She laughed, the sound trilling out to surround us like angels' breath, before resuming her song.

" _ **Did you think that I had left you for good?"**_ My other arm snaked around her to hold her closer to me, and somehow the both of hers had wound loosely around my neck. She was close enough to where I could- _no Erik. You won't even THINK such things. Do you want to scare her off!?_

" _ **Have you missed me, good messieurs?"**_ As she parroted my words of years ago back to me, I felt she was mocking me a little bit. If it had been anyone else, the mere thought would have sent me into a killing rage. But with Matalin, I could sense that she meant no harm, only wanted to show me my folly. That line, however, made me think. _Had I missed her? You can be honest to yourself if not to her. She can't know you rely on anyone._

"Yes. . ." I breathed, unknowingly. "Yes." I repeated myself, a little stronger. Somehow all my barriers came down with Matalin. I inhaled sharply when I realized what I had done and I buried my face in her neck in an effort to hide from the judgement I was sure lurked in her soft grey eyes. Matalin's fingers burrowed into my hair and twisted around strands.

She started to hum a soft lullaby that sounded as if it was only meant for her to hear. But when she started to sing, I knew it was meant for me. _**"Child of the wilderness. Born into ignorance. Learn to be lonely. Learn to find your way in darkness. Who will be there for you? Comfort and care for you?"**_ And for the second time in as many days, I lost my defenses as I only did at night, and cried.


	12. Chapter 12: The End

**Hey guys. Sorry to be away for so long but my muse wasn't cooperating and I have honestly lost all interest in this story. I won't leave it unfinished-I'm not that cruel-but it will be a probably very bad ending and not at all what I wanted for this story when I started. However, if there are any Potterheads out there reading, keep an eye out for one-shots and maybe a multichap called** _ **Soul Sister**_ **. That's about all I have to say, and I am sorry to do this, but I can't force myself to write any more than you guys can.**

 **Disclaimer:** _ **Phantom**_ **, Carry on My Wayward Son, and Behind These Hazel Eyes are not mine, they belong to their respective owners and I merely pay them homage with this work**

I held him as he cried. What else could I do? I certainly wasn't going to push him away. I loved him too much to do that to him.

 _ **Wait did I just-I did. I love him. I love him. I love him. But does he love me?**_

I abandoned my train of thought to sing quietly to him, a lullaby version of a popular song from a television show in my past. "Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done."

I brushed his hair back gently as I sang, noticing the way Eric's shoulders stopped shaking as his tears slowed.

"Lay your weary head to rest," I sang. 'Don't you cry no more."

Then the previously unthinkable happened.

I let her voice, more heavenly than even Christine's, wash over me as my tears slowed. Even if I had been by myself, this would have been utterly humiliating before Matalin had entered my life. But here, in the arms of my love . . . it was okay.

 _ **Wait did I just-I did. I love her. I love her. I love her. But does she love me?**_

I abandoned my train of thought in order to halt the flow of tears, and add a soft, hummed harmony line to whatever song Matalin was singing.

I brought my head up as the song wound to a close and pulled her against my chest, holding her close as I whispered, "Thank you."

She smiled up at me and replied, "It's the least I could do."

It was the way she smiled that did it. She was so beautiful and so kind and so wonderful and everything I wasn't, that I had never had the chance to be, I just couldn't contain myself. When it came to Matalin, I had no control. I leaned down and kissed her, ignoring the way the world spun around me. It was just me with her in my arms and her lips on mine and when she kissed back I was lost and yet found.

Eric kissed me, and I spent a single second in shock before kissing him back. It was gentle and sweet and loving and I shattered and came back together in the space of a few seconds as the world spun and it felt like we were falling. It felt like that single kiss lasted centuries instead of seconds, and as he whispered "I love you" everything that was wrong with the world became right.

"I love you too," I replied, before taking another look at his face.

"What?" He asked before becoming defensive. "I know it's horrible but-"

I cut him off. "No, it's flawless. I don't-"I looked around and gasped. "Eric . . . I'm home."

And indeed, we had been transported into the living room of my apartment. I pulled him over to the mirror hanging in the bathroom to show him and he stared at his reflection, marveling in the way both sides of his face were identical, as if his deformity had never existed to begin with.

"I don't understand," he finally whispered. "How did this happen?"

"I have no idea," I replied, looking around me. "I have no idea."

 **And that, dear readers, is where I leave you. Thank you so much for reading, it really means a lot to me and this story got so much more attention than I thought it would. At the time this is posted,** _ **The Phantom's Storm**_ **will have 993 views. That's amazing, and I can't thank you enough.**

 **~May the music guide you to all the best places in life,**

 **Dragonfire~**


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